


One Shines Brighter

by afirethatcannotdie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Banter, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Groomzilla, Idiots in Love, London, M/M, Marriage, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-09 13:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11669745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afirethatcannotdie/pseuds/afirethatcannotdie
Summary: “Hi, baby. You doing anything fun today?”Harry shrugs. “Dunno. Thought I’d see how I was feeling before making any plans.”“You wanna get married?” Louis asks. Harry’s face breaks into a smile, and he nods.Louis’ lips are just brushing Harry’s when Gemma appears in the hallway. “You two are in so much trouble.”Harry's wedding was never supposed to be the happiest day of his life. No, that was going to be the day after, when he finally got to start his marriage. Unfortunately his family (and Louis) have other ideas.Featuring a pair of moms who only want the best for their kids, meddling sisters with too much time on their hands, and a groom who gets caught up in the fairytale.





	One Shines Brighter

**Author's Note:**

> To Sara: Thanks for all your help with this. Love you lots and lots.

**_Ten hours to go_ **

The knock comes at the door at 6 am, and Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting it.

He doesn’t need to look through the peephole to know who’s beyond the other side of the door. He can already picture Louis standing on the step, hair tousled from sleep, a pillow crease on his cheek, his blanket probably tucked under his arm. He knows this because he’s spent the past two years living with Louis, and he _knows_ him. Knows him, wants him, loves him. Always.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he calls through the door.

“Is that a way to greet a man on his wedding day?” Louis calls back. His voice is raspy, and Harry knocks his forehead against the door. He wants to open it, wants to go to Louis and hug his sleep-warm body to his chest.

There’s a lot of things Harry could say in response to that, a lot of emotions flowing through his heart, but all he does is sink to the floor, back pressed against the door, and closes his eyes.

“Happy wedding day, Lou.”

“Happy wedding day. Can you let me in, please? I wanna kiss you.”

Harry hesitates. He wants nothing more. But there’s Gemma sleeping a room away, and Niall on the couch, and the two of them will kill him if they see Louis in the flat.

“I don’t care about Niall or Gemma,” Louis says, before Harry can even say anything.

“Weren’t you the one who kept talking about bad luck?” He’s three seconds from opening the door, but he wants to give Louis a chance to back down if this isn’t what he really wants.

“I don’t care anymore. I barely slept last night because all I could think about is how excited I was to marry you and now I need coffee. And also you. I know I’m not supposed to be here but you make the best coffee of anyone I’ve ever met and I really want to kiss you.”

Now faced with the prospect of everything he’s wanted for the past six and a half hours, Harry can’t say no anymore. He rises to his feet and pulls open the door.

Louis topples to the ground, falling backwards in the open doorway, and Harry realizes that he’d been sitting with his back to the door, in a mirror image of the way Harry’s been sitting the past few minutes.

Mirrors, that’s what their friends had always called them. In tune with one another even when they didn’t realize it.

“Thanks for that, pal,” Louis says, looking up at Harry. “Could’ve warned a guy.”

They both burst into laughter. “Not a very auspicious start to a wedding day,” Harry says.

“Excuse me, I think it’s going pretty great so far,” Louis says, and he tugs Harry’s hand until Harry is toppling over and landing on top of him. “Much better now, though.”

“Hi,’” Harry says softly. He’s back with Louis, back in his favorite place, and today is a big day.

“Hi, baby. You doing anything fun today?”

Harry shrugs. “Dunno. Thought I’d see how I was feeling before making any plans.”

“You wanna get married?” Louis asks. Harry’s face breaks into a smile, and he nods.

Louis’ lips are just brushing Harry’s when Gemma appears in the hallway. “You two are in so much trouble.”

**_Six days to go_ **

When Louis proposed to him a year and a half ago, Harry was ecstatic. He’d wanted to be able to call Louis his husband for a long time now, and he couldn’t wait to make that dream a reality.

He’d never cared much about the wedding, though. He had visions of the two of them taking their time, saving up money and vacation time and planning a trip to somewhere warm: Santorini, maybe, or Hawaii. A destination wedding, where they could get married on the beach with a few people in attendance and spend the next two weeks lounging in the sun, cocktails in hand and wedding rings on their fingers. He and Louis talked about it endlessly, going so far as to send each other travel articles and resort reviews before they were even engaged. When the engagement finally happened, they were in agreement that the wedding was going to be small, far away, and simple.

Their family, however, had other ideas.

“Absolutely not. Mum will kill you if you don’t have a wedding here in London,” Gemma said, three weeks after the engagement. By then the dust had settled and they’d gone back to their normal lives, though Harry hadn’t quite adjusted to the feeling of the cool metal of his new ring on his finger. “And you can’t wait three years. None of us are getting any younger here. Besides, you two need to have babies.”

Harry was about to interrupt her and remind her that he and Louis weren’t particularly concerned with the ticking of their biological clocks when it came to having children, but she just kept going.

“Plus how are we supposed to take all that time away from our jobs to go on holiday?”

 _I’m your only brother,_ Harry wanted to say. _I’m only going to have one wedding in my whole life; can’t you make it work?_

Louis’ family had been similarly displeased, nothing outright, but enough that it was clear that they too would have preferred a London wedding. They toyed with the idea of having a party in London and having the actual wedding abroad, but that didn’t fly either.

“Okay, fine,” Louis said to Lottie one night a year ago, two drinks in and an arm slung around Harry’s shoulder. They were all in a pub with Gemma and her husband, Elliott, and Lottie and _her_ husband, Colin, and everything they’d talked about all night was about the wedding, and it was exhausting. “We don’t care that much. If you want to plan the big wedding, even though you both got to do that already for your own, by all means, go ahead.”

Harry looked at him, eyes wide, and Louis just shrugged. Harry shrugged back, and that was that. He really didn’t care, just wanted to be married, and he knew that Louis felt the same. Just like always, they were on the same page. Besides, their sisters would get bored in a few weeks anyway and abandon the whole thing.

“It’s gonna be the best wedding ever,” Gemma said excitedly, grabbing Lottie’s hand.

“I promise you won’t regret this,” Lottie said.

And that’s how Harry finds himself in his living room at two in the morning months later, trying to wake a sleeping Louis to get him to go to bed.

“Lou,” he says, shaking his shoulder. “What are you doing sleeping on the floor? You’re gonna hurt your back.”

Louis is difficult to wake on a good day, but at times like this it feels downright impossible. When sleepy, he is very possibly the grumpiest thirty year old Harry has ever met. It takes a few minutes of mumbling for Harry to understand anything he’s saying.

“Come to bed, Lou. When did you even come out here?”

“After you fell asleep. I need to finish these.” He points to the mess on the table, which consists of their half-assembled wedding favors.They’re succulent plants, and Louis had the idea to re-pot them into little teacups and tie ribbons around them with a little note thanking people for attending.

It’s a cute idea, but Louis has taken it way too far. As he has with most things for this wedding, honestly. He’s refused all offers of help, including those from Harry, claiming that he has a vision and it needs to be perfect.

“You need to sleep. We’ll find the time to make them later. Let’s go back to sleep.”

“Harry, in six days people are going to be _expecting_ these. In five days we have our rehearsal dinner, so I can’t do it then, and for the next three days I have to work, and you have things to do, and there is _no time._ These have to be done _now.”_

Harry frowns. “Lou, you’re not doing anyone any good getting stressed out about this. You already fell asleep during it. You’re exhausted. Please come to bed.”

Louis shakes his head. “I need to finish these. I can’t.”

“Alright,” Harry says softly. “I’ll help you.” He takes a seat on the couch, curls his legs underneath him, and gets to work.

He thinks that Louis has gone absolutely bonkers, but he’s still his person. So if it takes sitting with him as they painstakingly assemble each favor for their 300 guests, telling silly stories to distract him from how (unnecessarily) stressed he is, so be it.

**_Five days to go_ **

The linens are the next issue, Louis insists, because it turns out the venue changed suppliers and the ones they’ll be getting aren’t the exact same as the ones that they decided on. Harry wonders how it’s possible that they could have had months of wedding planning go by without any problems, and now in the last month everything seems to be going to shit. It hasn’t only been the favors: there’s been stress over the programs not getting printed properly, over the bakery’s sudden switch to vegan-only ingredients, thus doubling the cost of the cake, and over the outfits. Harry’s insisted that none of these are make-or-break issues. It’s not working.

Harry’s tried to remind Louis that once in a while, he _can_ be right, but Louis doesn’t seem to remember that.

A few months ago, Louis had stood in the middle of a department store and spent fifteen minutes rambling about why all the groomsmen should wear hot pink ties, despite the fact that the dresses the girls were wearing for the girls were a pale blush.

It took a full bottle of wine and two blow jobs for Louis to admit that Harry was right.

“Well, you’re stressed now because the wedding is this week, you dimwit,” Gemma says as she nicks one of Harry’s chips off his plate. “It didn’t feel real before. It was more, more of a fairytale or summat.”

“I do want to marry him,” Harry insists. “I just can’t deal with him when he’s stressed about the shit that doesn’t matter.”

“I know you do. But listen. In a week the two of you will be in Santorini, not able to take your eyes off each other, and it’ll all have been worth it.”

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbles as his phone vibrates with another stressed out message from Louis.

“I do,” Gemma says, nicking another chip. “The two of you are the most sickeningly romantic couple of anyone I’ve ever seen. You’re perfect for each other. It’ll all be fine.”

“You helped create this monster,” Harry reminds her. He can’t seem to care about his rapidly disappearing pile of chips. “You and Mum and Lottie and Jay. You made him like this.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gemma says, flicking her hair back. “Anyway, I’m sick of discussing your wedding. Let’s talk about something else.”

**_Four days to go_ **

Harry can feel his phone buzzing all day at work, and he knows that the texts are primarily from Louis, but he doesn’t dare check it. Louis knows to call the main number of the restaurant if there’s a real problem.

Which is why when George comes down to the office, interrupting Harry’s meeting with Max about the food order for next week, his heart drops to the floor.

“Louis is on the phone for you, mate. Sounds bad.”

Max gives him a nod and leaves the room, mumbling something that Harry doesn’t hear as he reaches for the phone to pick up the line upstairs.

“Lou? What’s wrong?”

He says something Harry can’t understand.

“Slow down. Take a deep breath.”

“The dresses, the dresses,” Louis repeats, tone frantic.

Eventually Harry makes sense of the situation. The dresses for Louis’ baby sisters, who are honestly no longer babies but teenagers, had to be special ordered months ago. They’d always known that they were going to be cutting it close to the wedding with the delivery, but they’d figured it’d be fine. That was back when Louis wasn’t beside himself with distress about the wedding, of course.

And now he is, of course, and he’s saying that the dresses are a slightly different shade than the ones they ordered for the other bridesmaids.

“It’s fine, Lou. Isn’t that multicolored, ombré bridesmaid dresses thing popular for weddings these days anyway?”

“Not if it’s only two of them that aren’t matching!”

Harry hesitated. “I guess… at least it’s good they’re twins anyway?”

“Harry!”

When they were first trying to convince their sons to have the big wedding they never wanted, Anne and Jay had tried to appeal to Harry’s love of parties and tradition. They must have figured that because he loved ceremonies and events and _love,_ he was the most likely to budge first. And while Harry did — does — love all those things, he really only wanted to marry Louis. He didn’t care about the what or the how of it, as long as he ended the day with Louis’ ring on his finger and their hands clasped tight.

But if someone had asked Harry back then who was likely to be the one to freak out about having the perfect wedding, deep down he would’ve bet the entire restaurant he currently manages that it would be Louis.

He’s always been the more quietly romantic of the two, from decorating Harry’s entire bedroom in rose petals on their first Valentine’s Day to ordering his favorite dinner on his birthday to bringing home flowers at random just because he wants to see him smile. He loves so openly and fully and broadly that Harry has never once doubted how Louis feels about him.

So it makes sense that Louis is panicking right now, even though they’d both been very sincere in their desire to keep things simple. He’s too caught up in trying to make everything perfect.

“Louis, listen to me. I have to get back to work, the dinner shift is starting soon and I need to get upstairs. But listen. It’s going to be fine. The girls will be beautiful, no one will notice the dresses are a shade different, and everything will be perfect.”

“I don’t believe you,” Louis says quietly. The statement feels like a punch to the gut. And after everything, staying up last night and getting very little sleep and having to fire someone an hour ago, it’s all too much to handle right now.

“Wow, okay. Tell me how you really feel.”

“Haz, you _know_ that’s not—”

“I have to go. I’ll see you at home.” Harry slams down the phone and heads upstairs for the pre-meal meeting, heart pounding in his chest.

**_Three days to go_ **

When Harry wakes, the bed is empty.

He expected that, of course; unless Harry wakes up early to exercise, Louis is almost always gone to work before him. The schedule of a teacher doesn’t quite line up with that of a restaurant manager. The good news is that the daytime manager is about to move, leaving the slot free for Harry, and when they return from the honeymoon, he’ll be able to get home at the same time as Louis forever and ever.

He can’t wait.

It’s not until he gets out of bed and doesn’t see Louis’ usual note on the kitchen counter that he remembers their fight.

He feels shitty, plain and simple.

It’s Louis who was in the wrong, so why does he feel like such rubbish?

As he cooks breakfast, noticing that Louis didn’t take the leftovers that Harry brought him home to eat for his lunch, Harry wonders how they got into this mess. And unfortunately, because he’s done with work until the wedding, he has an entire day to think about it.

Normally there would be an extensive list from Louis of wedding tasks he wants him to complete. Today, there’s nothing.

He cleans the whole flat, sets up the beds for guests, and calls his mum, pretending everything is perfectly fine. He tells her he can’t wait to see her, says that Louis is busy at work but can’t wait to be done, and assures her that no, he hasn’t gotten cold feet.

“I didn’t think so. You’ve always loved Louis in a special sort of way. Like together, the two of you could take on the world.”

It’s that statement that gets him crying, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he collapses onto the couch and sobs. He loves Louis more than anyone in the world. He didn’t _know_ that it was possible to love someone like this until he met him, was actually afraid of it. Somehow, Louis had broken through all his walls with a bulldozer.

Harry was twenty three when they’d met, fresh out of university and ready to figure out what he was going to do with his life. He’d immediately been enamoured with the cool, witty friend of Niall’s that he met at someone’s birthday party. They laugh now about how they can’t remember whose party it was, because that was the night that had changed everything.

“Just goes to show you that any night can be the best night of your life,” Louis is fond of saying.

They’d hit it off right away, spending the evening laughing about football and game shows and shared travel experiences. They’d basically ignored everyone else they were with as a result, the two of them cooped up in the kitchen while the party carried on in the living room. Harry had instantly wanted more with Louis, wanted to take him to dinner and figure out what made him tick.

It had taken a few more weeks and another handful of parties, but finally he and Louis had exchanged numbers, saying that they should get together for drinks. By this point, Harry had resigned himself to the fact that sharp, funny Louis wasn’t interested in him, but he wanted to keep him as a friend. There was an energy he got from being around Louis that he just didn’t find anywhere else, and he knew he needed to hang on to that.

The minute he’d left the party, after giving Louis a hug that definitely lingered far too long, he’d gotten a text.

_U free for dinner tomorrow night? 7pm? Look sharp, it’s a date._

Harry had stopped short in the middle of the pavement, looked up at the sky in disbelief, and laughed and laughed.

On their second date, just three nights later, Louis confessed that he’d been interested in Harry for a long time but didn’t know those feelings were reciprocated — “How was I supposed to know you were flirting with me, you’re flirty with everyone!” — and Harry had leaned over the table and kissed him right then.

They’d been inseparable after that.

This fighting is just temporary, he reminds himself as he wipes his eyes. Everyone has told him that the stress will disappear after the wedding. They’ll finally be able to talk about other things without this hanging over their heads.

Harry just hates that it was never _supposed_ to be stressful. They’d handed the reins over to their sisters and mums because neither of them cared about the wedding all that much. And then slowly, as these things happen, Louis had gotten caught up in making sure it was perfect. Harry can still remember when, six months into the engagement, Louis had flipped a switch and suddenly gotten more involved in the process than either of them had ever intended.

“I’m really excited for this,” Louis said, just before they went into an appointment with the florist. He was practically bouncing in place, and Harry couldn’t figure out why.

“I’m so glad _one_ of you is finally on board with making this into the big day it should be,” said Anne. While her tone was teasing, Harry knew that she was slightly bitter that he didn’t care.

“Do you have a vision board?” the florist asked, looking eagerly between Harry and Louis.

“A vision board?” Harry asked blankly. “I just want white flowers.”

“Yes, but what kind of _feeling_ do you want to evoke? What emotions do you want people to experience when they look at the flowers? Surely you’ve thought about this.”

“Um, not really,” Harry said, looking at Louis for guidance.

“Can you talk more about the feelings?” Louis asked her, suddenly looking interested. “Because we really want people to feel comfortable. Warm. Homey. That sort of thing.”

Harry placed a hand on his arm. “Lou. Neither of us really care that much about the flowers. Let’s just let the professionals go with whatever white flowers they think are best and move on to other things. The dresses are pale pink, we want white flowers, the rest really doesn’t matter to us.”

“Doesn’t matter?” asked the florist with a raised eyebrow. This time, she looked to Anne, her face pinched like she’d just smelled something awful. Anne merely shook her head slowly. “But surely you have a wedding theme.”

“Our theme is getting married,” Harry said, repeating the phrase they’d decided on way back when people had started to bother them for details about the wedding. “That’s all we care about.”

“Well, actually,” Louis hedged. “If you could talk more about the feelings flowers can evoke, I’d really like to hear it.”

It only got crazier from there. One day, the two of them were on the same page, and the next, Louis was going full-on crazy planning this wedding that neither of them really wanted.

“But do we _really_ need to wait to see each other until I walk down the aisle?” Harry asked. “I thought we agreed we would do a first look. It’s better for the pictures, and then we get to spend more time together on the day.”

“I know, but it’s much more romantic to wait. You know Lottie and Colin did it, and she said she’s really glad they did.”

“What they did doesn’t have to work for us though.”

“It’s tradition, Haz. We should do it.”

Harry had decided to table the discussion before it turned into an argument, and then it had never come up again. Lottie had suggested it, Louis agreed, and Harry felt blindsided into doing something he didn’t really want to do for his own wedding.

Looking back, he doesn’t know why he didn’t stop the whole thing in its tracks way back when it started. They could’ve eloped like they planned and avoided all this stress.

 _It’ll be over soon enough,_ he reminds himself as he pulls into the reception venue to meet Louis and his mum. Four days from now at this time, he and Louis will be in that ballroom dancing the night away. They’ll be married. That’s what this is about.

He has to prepare himself when he gets out of the car, remembering to put on a happy face. _Play nice and pretend everything is fine._

Jay and Louis are standing in the lobby of the venue when Harry enters, and Jay rushes over to him, enveloping him in a big hug.

“How are you feeling? Only a few days away now.”

“I’m great,” he says, forcing a smile to his face. “It’s starting to feel very real, isn’t it?”

“Hi,” Louis says, and his smile is a little strained. At least they’re on the same page. When he kisses Harry, there’s nothing to it, just something they’ve done out of habit thousands of times.

Jay probably doesn’t suspect anything, Harry reasons. They’re in public; they wouldn’t normally be overly affectionate anyway.

For once Harry is happy to hang back and let Louis dominate the conversation with the coordinator as they go over last-minute plans and the schedule for the wedding. It means he has to try to fake it less.

By the time their coordinator bids them farewells with hugs, Harry feels drained. She pressed a bottle of champagne into their hands and tells them to drink it tonight, to have a nice dinner and relax.

“There’s no need to stress, it’s all going to be fine,” she says. “The next time I see you will be your wedding day!”

“Thanks,” Harry says weakly. “See you then.”

“You two okay?” Jay asks when they’re standing in the parking lot.

“Just peachy,” Louis says. He wraps his arm around Harry and smiles. “Thanks for coming, Mum. We’ll see you tomorrow at the rehearsal.”

“Alright. Ring me if you need anything. I’m sure Lottie will be up all night working on whatever project you’ve given her.”

Harry manages to maintain his composure until Louis slides into the passenger seat of his car. He suddenly wishes they’d each driven their own cars, that Louis’ mum hadn’t offered to meet Louis at work and bring him to the appointment.

Maybe things will be fine. Maybe they can keep faking nice and then in ten minutes they’ll be back to normal. They’ve done it before.

“I think it’s gonna be really beautiful, don’t you?” Louis asks as Harry pulls onto the motorway. “I mean, assuming they fix the linens issue.”

That does it. Harry slams his palm against the top of the steering wheel. “Louis! Get over the linens!”

“I can’t!”

“You can, you just don’t want to. It’s like you’re so consumed with this one thing that you’re forgetting about the things that actually matter.”

“I know! But I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Lou, you’ve gotta let it go.”

“I can’t!” Louis runs his hands through his hair. If they were at home, he’d be pacing the living room. As it is, Harry can see his leg twitching madly. “I cannot let it go.”

“Fine,” Harry says, tone short. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

They spend the rest of the car ride in silence. Harry feels properly angry now, and he knows it’s stupid but he can’t let it go.

When he parks in their spot at home, they both sit in the quiet car for a few minutes. It’s Louis who speaks first, probably because Harry is stubborn. Louis knows this.

“I hate fighting with you.”

Harry lifts his head to look at him, and the look in Louis’ eyes is one of genuine concern. “Me too.”

“I’m sorry I snapped at you last night. It’s just like…” He takes a deep breath, and Harry really looks at him for the first time in two days. He’s exhausted. “I’m so worried about everything going perfectly that I forget you want that too. It’s easy to feel like you don’t care about the stuff I’m so concerned about.”

 _Because you’ve turned into a crazy person,_ Harry wants to say, but the fight has drained out of him.

“I think we’re just worried about different things.”

“I feel like we’re fighting for no reason, and I can’t stop.”

“I think it’s easier to fight with each other about this stuff than with anyone else because we know we’ll still be there at the end of the day,” says Harry quietly.

“I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I do love you a lot.”

Harry smiles. It feels like the first time his smile has been real all day. “Good. Me too.”

They end up spending the night curled up on the couch with pizza, passing the bottle of champagne between them and watching trashy tv. They don’t talk about the wedding at all and that night as they fall into bed, Harry knows they’re going to be okay.

**_Two days to go_ **

“We should’ve gone to a spa,” Harry mumbles, trying to itch a spot on his cheek. The face mask he’s wearing shifts a bit, and Gemma clucks.

“You’re to leave that on for twenty minutes or more, you read the instructions. Besides, we _did_ go to a spa. Last week. And a month before that. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten.”

“I haven’t,” he says. “But if we were at a spa, I could drink wine and not worry about having to put together all these hotel gift bags. And I wouldn’t have a face mask. Someone would be giving me a facial instead.”

He nods to the bags in front of them. They’ve been putting them together for two hours, and Harry had finally insisted they take a break.

“Stop fretting.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to a man two days before his wedding, Gemma,” says Elliott. “Maybe you’ve forgotten that you were a bit of a wreck yourself.”

“She may have, but I haven’t,” Harry says.

“You two, shush,” Gemma says. “Haz, if you promise to sit there and be quiet I’ll finish up these bags so you can bring them to the hotel tomorrow. Louis’ll kill me if they’re not done.”

“Think it’ll be me he kills,” Harry says, laying back on the couch. It’d actually be quite relaxing, if he could stop thinking about the wedding. “Then there will be no wedding at all. Which, at this rate, would actually be fine.”

“He only wants it to be perfect because he loves you.”

“I know, but I don’t get why he _cares_ so much.”

“He probably wishes you cared a little bit more,” Gemma says after a minute, her tone very gentle.

Harry pushes himself up on his elbows and pulls off the face mask to look at her properly. “But I _do_ care. So much. He’s being too much of a stressed out ninny to remember.”

“Watch it, that’s my brother in law you’re talking about. Be nice.”

Harry groans and falls back onto the couch again.

_Louis, husband, Greek island. Louis, husband, Greek island._

He doesn’t bother reminding Gemma that it was her that helped turn Louis into a groom-zilla. There’s no point now. In two days, it’ll be over and done with and the fighting and the stress will fall away.

Three hours later, Harry walks into the door of his flat. The hotel bags are assembled and ready, waiting in the boot of his car to be brought to the hotel tomorrow morning. He’s pretty sure everything is done from his end. Now all that’s left to do is convince Louis to relax a bit, and they’ll be good to go.

“No, we were told that there would specifically be white peonies,” Louis says when Harry walks into the living room. He’s pacing the floor, one hand pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt, and there’s a crease between his eyebrows. He’s been on the phone for a while, Harry can tell. “Did you know that peonies are an omen of a happy marriage? I don’t care if your delivery truck is late. We really need the peonies!”

He raises a hand in greeting to Harry and then goes right back to tugging at his shirt. Harry looks at him a moment longer and his heart just… breaks. Louis isn’t himself, is going frantic with worry about something that doesn’t matter at all, and Harry can’t take it anymore. He’s gotta do something about this.

He knows now, thanks to a bit of pushing from his mum, that Louis only ever wants the best for the two of them. What Gemma said is correct. Louis is only acting like this because he wants them to have a day they’ll always remember. Harry knows they’ll always remember it even if they both wear jeans and it pours rain the whole time. Louis will too. He just needs to be reminded.

In four long strides, he crosses the room and pulls the phone out of Louis’ hand. “Hi, this is Louis’ fiancé. As long as the flowers are white with bits of pink, that will be fine. Whatever you have. Thank you so much.”

He ends the call and places a hand on each of Louis’ shoulders, giving him a significant look. For a split second, anger flashes across Louis’ face, and then he crumbles.

He starts bawling. Big, humongous tears slide down his cheeks and onto his shirt. His shoulders start shaking and Harry wraps him in his arms, holding him close.

It takes a few minutes, but finally the tears slow.

“I’m so sorry,” Louis mumbles against Harry’s chest. “Harry, I’m sorry. I’ve been… a mess. I’m so sorry.”

Harry leads them to the couch and Louis sinks into it, holding himself close to Harry. The couch is where they have all their Important Conversations. It’s only natural that this is where they would talk about this too.

“I love you,” Harry says softly. “I love you so much that if you told me you wanted to get married on a spaceship, I would find a way to make it happen.”

Louis laughs and wipes his nose. “I don’t think I’d ask you to do that.”

“I know. But I’d still do it if you wanted to. And I know you’d do the same for me. But you know I don’t need any of this, right? I just care about you.”

Louis nods. “Me too. All I’ve ever wanted to do was marry you. The when and the how of it never mattered that much.”

“So what happened?” Harry asks quietly, wiping moisture from beneath Louis’ eyes. “Where did everything change?”

Louis shrugs. “You know like… when a ball is rolling down a hill and you can’t stop it? It kinda felt like that. Like we agreed to do the wedding here because that’s what everyone else wanted, and then one thing led to another and suddenly we’re picking out pocket squares that match the table napkins that match the aisle runner and I just felt like I couldn’t _stop.”_

He takes a deep breath, and when he inhales, Harry feels it all along the line of his body. He presses a kiss to Louis’ shoulder and waits for him to continue.

“And you never told me to and even though I knew you weren’t happy I figured you’d _get_ excited about it soon and—”

“I was always excited to marry you,” Harry interrupts. “Always, always. It was the spectacle that didn’t excite me. I don’t need to spend a million pounds to tell everyone how much I love you.”

“I know. We were on the same page, I promise. I just got really caught up in it.”

“I know,” Harry says, poking him in the chest. Louis leans in to kiss him then, so he can’t be too bothered by it.

“I kinda wish we could just skip all of it and run away,” he admits.

“What, and waste a good party?” Harry asks. “No. We’re gonna have a hell of a good time at that party. We’ve paid quite a lot of money for it. You’re just gonna work to care a bit less if it rains, or if the flowers are the wrong color. Okay?”

“Only if you promise to do all the cheesy traditions you’ve been complaining about for months. You _will_ let me smush cake on your face. And serenade you with a song.”

“Only after I’ve had a bit to drink,” Harry says with a laugh.

“Deal,” Louis says, and then he kisses him again.

Harry can remember the day he knew he would marry Louis with startling clarity.

He’d been playing football with Liam, a pick-up match on a pitch with some other lads on a Saturday morning. He’d lunged for a wayward ball at the same time someone else did, and the two of them had collided. Harry’d gone down, leg twisting underneath him, and next thing he knew, he was waking up in the hospital being treated for a broken ankle.

“They say you don’t have a concussion, at least,” Liam said when Harry came to. “So that’s good news, mate. Gave us a real scare.”

Liam sat in the chair next to him and entertained him until the doctors discharged him, and Harry appreciated it, but the whole time he couldn’t help but wish Louis was there instead. He’d missed the match because he was up north spending the weekend with his family for his sister’s birthday.

That wasn’t when he realized, though. That came later that afternoon, when there was a knock at the door and Harry hobbled over on crutches to find Louis standing on the doorstep.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, stunned. He’d stopped himself from crying all day, trying to be strong, but just the sight of Louis was enough to make tears well up in his eyes.

“Heard you needed some help,” Louis said with a smile. “Come on, let’s get you to the couch.”

Louis made him popcorn and put on his favorite tv shows and fetched him anything he needed and cuddled him close. He ordered takeaway for them and wouldn’t let Harry pay for it. When Harry complained that the pain medication made him fuzzy and he couldn’t concentrate on the book he was trying to read, Louis tugged the book from his hands and started to read aloud, running his hand gently through Harry’s hair as he spoke. Harry had fallen asleep just like that, there in Louis’ arms.

They’d been dating for three months, and Harry was still looking for the right time to tell Louis he was in love with him, but that was when he knew he was going to keep Louis around forever.

**_One day to go_ **

“You realize that next time we have sex we’ll be married,” Harry says, passing Louis a towel as they step out of the shower.

“Yes, I do. Mostly because you mentioned it about four times when we were actually having sex,” Louis says, knotting the towel around his waist. For a moment, Harry strongly considers dragging him back to bed one more time.

“Excuse me for wanting to celebrate all the firsts and lasts,” Harry says, poking him in the chest.

“Speaking of, will you let me take you out for one last breakfast before we get married?”

Harry’s eyes widen. “What about the bags for the hotel? And the flowers?”

“Your mum and Gems are taking care of the flowers, we’re gonna bring the gift bags to the hotel on the way to the rehearsal dinner, but right now, you and I,” he says, slinging his arms loosely around Harry’s neck, “are gonna go have breakfast at your favorite place and get really buzzed on coffee.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Harry asks, bringing his lips just a hair’s breadth away from Louis’. “You know, what with you being so nervous to marry me and all.”

Louis laughs, and it’s Harry’s favorite sound in the world. “Yeah, I’m having _so_ many second thoughts. I think I might actually ditch you at the altar. Just waiting to see what my other options are first.”

“Better find out quick, you’re running out of time,” Harry says, and then he kisses him.

Lottie calls with an issue when they’re at breakfast, and Harry tenses. He envisions Louis leading them both out of the restaurant, hands waving wildly as he insists they go deal with whatever the issue is.

“Doesn’t matter, Lottie. Just make whatever decision you want and stick to it,” he says, and then he turns his phone on silent and puts it away.

“What?” he says in response to Harry’s wide eyed stare. “I’m working on not caring.”

“Good job, baby.”

They manage to do an incredible job of avoiding any further wedding discussion over breakfast. It’s normal and comforting and familiar, and, Harry realizes with a start, this is what it’ll be like when they come back here after the honeymoon. They won’t ever have to talk about the wedding ever again.

They’re back in the car, nearly at the hotel, when Harry mentions it.

“Lou. Guess what?”

“What?”

“After tomorrow, we’ll never have to talk about the wedding ever again.”

“Oh my God. You’re right. Hallelujah,” Louis says, and then the two of them dissolve into laughter.

When Louis had first expressed an interest in caring a bit more about the wedding than they had initially planned for, Harry had let him do his thing. He didn’t particularly care about the how or the when, just cared about the who and the what: a wedding to Louis.

Louis would suggest dozens of ideas to Harry weekly, most of them coming from Pinterest board he shared with their mums and sisters. Harry, assuming that this would all pass soon and he’d go back to not caring, told Louis to go with what he thought was best. He wanted a fun party, but he mostly just wanted to stay out of it.

But then Louis had started to go truly insane with the stress of it, and it wasn’t healthy. So he’d insisted that Louis give him a few projects to tackle.

Invitations were the first one. Considering that Harry’s role there was mainly to stuff envelopes, that one had been pretty easy.

The seating chart was next, but it quickly became clear that Louis wasn’t willing to give up control for that one. Harry came home from work one night to see all his work destroyed, little post-it notes moved all around the board. That had led to their first real wedding-related blowout, both of them screaming at each other in the living room for over an hour.

Months later, Harry can’t remember any of the details of the argument, but he has a very crisp memory of the two rounds of make-up sex that followed.

His biggest project, though, was definitely the hotel gift bags. They were impossible to mess up, Louis assured him, and he could even get Gemma to help. A bottle of water, some snacks, some Tylenol, a giftcard for a local restaurant, and a chocolate bar all got placed in one bag, which then got tied up with a ribbon. Repeat 150 times, and they were done.

Of course it had taken forever, and a lot of emotional energy went into making them. That’s probably why Harry is standing at the concierge desk arguing with the hotel employees about the bags.

“It’s not one per room. It’s one per _person._ So if there’s two people in the room, they each get a bag.”

“You’ve got far too many bags here, sir. There’s only 60 rooms in your hotel block, but you have over 100 bags.”

“Yes!” Harry exclaims. “Because each _person_ in the room gets _their own bag.”_

He looks around wildly for Louis, and then relaxes a bit when he spots him walking toward him.

“What’s wrong?” Louis asks, grabbing for his hand. When Harry explains the problem, Louis laughs.

“Why are you _laughing_ at me?”

Louis shakes his head. “Just funny, is all. Remind me, what’s the theme of our wedding?”

“Getting married.”

“Right. Can we still do that if people don’t get gift bags?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I mean, I guess, but—”

“Yes,” Louis says definitively. “Yes, we can. So let’s let my sister deal with this, and you and me can go practice getting married.”

Harry grins. “I’ve been thinking about it for years now. I’m pretty sure I don’t need any practice.”

The rehearsal goes off without a hitch, and by the time the toasts have concluded at the rehearsal dinner, Harry’s forgotten entirely about the gift bags.

He holds Louis close, one arm wrapped around his waist while he listens to family and friends talk about how good they are for each other, how their love is a beautiful thing to witness, how they’ve brought people together and helped start new families.

Harry can’t quite believe that he’s so lucky to have all these people in his life, and he spends most the the evening wiping away tears and swatting Louis away every time he points out that he’s crying.

Zayn leads them out to the hotel bar when the dinner wraps up, and Harry has to remind them all not to drink too much.

“If you’re hungover on my wedding day, I’m going to be very angry.”

Louis laughs and presses a kiss to his temple, and Harry pulls him close and thinks about how by the time the sun sets again, they’ll be married.

He can’t fucking wait.

**_Seventeen hours to go_ **

“Harry, thirty minute warning,” Gemma says, like he’s a child about to be torn away from a playdate.

“This is stupid,” Louis says from his resting place on Harry’s lap. “I take it back. I don’t care about the tradition anymore. Just let us go home and sleep in our own bed.”

“We’re _adults,”_ Harry reminds them. “Lottie, I’m older than you. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Too bad,” Lottie says, flicking him on the ear. He presses his cold beer against her arm in retaliation, and she hisses, which makes both he and Louis laugh.

“Mum and Jay will kill me if I don’t keep the two of you separate tonight,” Gemma says. “Louis is staying in the hotel, and Harry’s sleeping at the flat. That’s been the plan all along, and we’re not changing it just cause the two of you have changed your minds.”

“What’s to stop me from just sneaking in anyway?” Louis asks.

“Me,” says Niall, popping into the conversation. “I’m sleeping on your couch.”

Harry groans. “You’re supposed to be sleeping at the hotel.”

Niall shakes his head. “Got enlisted for backup when you two decided to go rogue.”

Louis buries his face into Harry’s chest. “I hate this.”

“Me too,” Harry says quietly, rubbing his hand up and down Louis’ back.

“Alright, me and Harry are going for a walk,” Louis decides. “Don’t follow us.”

“But—you can’t—” Lottie and Gemma start to protest.

“We can and we will,” Harry insists, pushing Louis to his feet and taking his hand.

“He better be in that hotel room by midnight,” Gemma insists. “And if you’re not waiting for me and Niall in the lobby by 12:01, Harry Styles, there will be hell to pay.”

Harry just rolls his eyes, threads his fingers through Louis’, and they head outside.

They don’t really talk about much as they stroll through the garden of the hotel grounds. Harry tries to soak it all up, this last walk with Louis as his fiancé. There are a few declarations of love that neither of them can hold back, there’s shared excitement for tomorrow, and there’s an overwhelming thankfulness that they’ve got each other.

“Forever,” Louis says.

“Forever,” Harry repeats quietly, a little awed at the idea. He hopes he never gets used to it, never grows to take Louis for granted. He’s pretty sure he never will.

Far too soon, it’s ten to midnight and Harry knows they need to head back to the hotel. For all his bravado, he really doesn’t want to get on the bad side of either of their sisters — or even worse, Niall.

Said group is waiting at the end of the hallway that leads to Louis’ room. They’ve got Zayn and Liam with them too, and when Harry sees them all the moment they get off the elevator, he clings to Louis.

“I don’t want to say goodnight,” he whines. “This was an awful idea. I don’t know how to sleep without you.”

“It’ll be okay,” Louis says, wrapping an arm around his waist and squeezing him tight. “It’s only a few hours.”

“It’s like, _sixteen_ hours,” Harry says. “I don’t want to.”

“I can’t wait to marry you,” Louis says. He presses Harry back against the wall and kisses him slow and deep, and Harry’s chest is heaving when Louis pulls away.

“Three minutes,” Gemma calls from the other end of the hall, out of sight around the corner, and Harry wills time to slow.

“There’s so many things I want to say right now,” Louis says.

“I know. I mean, me too, but I already know them all,” Harry whispers, bringing Louis’ hand up to feel the rapid beating of his heart. “It’s all in there.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Louis says.

“I’m always right.”

“Alright, pal, whatever you say.”

“I love you,” Harry murmurs. “I love you so much.” He feels dumbly, stupidly weepy for how much he doesn’t want to leave Louis right now.

“I’m really excited, Haz,” Louis admitted, voice breaking halfway through the sentence. “I’m so fucking excited.”

“Me too. Like… I’ve never been more sure of anything,” Harry says confidently. “I love you, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be the one in the suit.”

“Wait. _I’ll_ be the one in the suit. One of us is gonna have to change.”

Louis laughs, shakes his head, and then kisses him. “You’re an idiot. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you then. I love you, Louis Tomlinson.”

“I love you too, Harry Styles.”

He walks away with one final kiss. He feels like he’s leaving a piece of his heart behind, but he’s so fucking excited for the rest of his life — for their life _together_ — that he greets Gemma with a smile.

“Let’s go to sleep. I’m ready to get married.”

**_Ten hours to go_ **

“You two are in so much trouble,” Gemma says when she comes across them in the hallway, and Harry’s head falls against Louis’ shoulder in frustration. “Louis, what are you doing here? Actually, don’t answer that.”

“He needed coffee,” Harry says, struggling to get himself and Louis to their feet without dislodging their hold around each other. It’s quite difficult.

Gemma raises an eyebrow. “Louis doesn’t like coffee.”

“Louis is a primary school teacher, Gems. Of course he drinks coffee.”

“Louis can speak for himself, thank you,” Louis says. “I came for coffee, but also for Harry.”

Gemma snorts. Harry beams.

The commotion wakes Niall on the couch. “I better be in the middle of a fuckin’ dream, Tommo. There’s no way that I’m seeing you standing there right now.”

“Nope, it’s him,” says Gemma, her voice stern. “How did you even get past Liam and Zayn?”

“Liam was asleep. Zayn said he didn’t care what I did. Said it was nice to see me dedicated to something non stress-inducing for the first time in months, actually.”

Harry snorts. “Well, that’s definitely true.”

“I’m ringing Liam,” Niall says. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Don’t make him go,” Harry begs Gemma. “Please. I slept like shit last night. Our bed is too big without you.” This last bit is directed at Louis, who blows him a kiss.

Gemma sighs. “Fine. For an hour. But no kissing.”

Harry breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Gem.”

“Can I have some coffee now?”

Harry tugs his hand toward the kitchen. “Yeah, let’s get you some coffee.”

Entering the kitchen with Louis’ hand in his, on the morning of their wedding day, no less, feels like Harry is getting to have all his dreams come true. He can’t believe how lucky he is.

They’d gotten engaged in this very kitchen. Right there at the table where Louis is sitting as he waits for Harry to brew the coffee.

It was a random Saturday morning. Harry had just returned from a run in the park. His hair was plastered with sweat and he had a bit of a cramp in his leg. He’d hoped Louis would be home to massage it and make it better, but Louis was nowhere to be found.

Harry was eating oatmeal and a banana, sipping tea and willing his cramp to go away, when Louis burst through the door.

“Lou! Thank God you’re home. I’m injured and I need—what are you _doing?”_

Louis strolled into kitchen and got down on one knee in front of Harry, grabbed his hands and pulled a small box out of his pocket.

“So,” he said through a shaky laugh. “I had all these ideas for how to propose and all these extravagant things I wanted to do. But then I picked up the ring today and I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. I love you so much and you’re my best friend and you’re the best, best thing that’s ever happened to me. Will you marry me, Harry?”

Harry felt like he was in a daze, so the first thing that came out of his mouth was: “That rhymes.”

Louis looked momentarily stunned. “What are you—oh my God. You’re ridiculous.”

Harry laughed. “Maybe so, but you’re the one who just proposed. So that makes you ridiculous by association.”

“You know, you’re kind of leaving me hanging here. Will you marry me, Harry Styles?”

“There we go,” Harry said with a cheeky smile. “Yes, I will, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis’s face broke into a wide grin. Harry brought his hands to his cheeks and found them wet with tears. Louis was crying too.

“You’re gonna be my husband,” Harry whispered. He’d been dreaming of this forever, but he couldn’t believe it was actually going to happen.

“And you’re gonna be mine,” Louis said. “You wanna see the ring?”

“Yes,” Harry said immediately. “Show me the ring.”

He took a deep breath as Louis opened the box, and then a fresh wave of tears erupted. The band, thin and silver with a ridge all the way around, was simple and _perfect_. Harry couldn't quite believe it was for _him._

Harry’s fingers brush over that same ring now, standing in the same kitchen with the same boy. Man, really, though he’ll always think of Louis as that loud, witty twenty five year old he fell in love with. It’s been five years of _them,_ and eighteen months since they started actively planning for today.

He still can’t fucking wait.

They sip their coffee in silence, bare feet tangled together beneath the table, and Harry takes a bit of time to appreciate how they’ve gotten to this moment. If he thinks about it for too long, he’ll start waxing poetic about love and fate and destiny. And while today is the day for that, he kind of wants to save it for later.

“You know, I kinda want to do a first look,” Louis says suddenly.

“I thought you didn’t want to see each other until the wedding.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Bit late for that, innit?”

“Touché. The plan’s already set with the photographer, though. We approved it last week, no more changes.”

“I know,” Louis says. He sighs. “Oh well.”

“Still gonna be a great day though.”

“Still gonna be a hell of a day,” Louis says with a wide grin.

**_Three hours to go_ **

“Don’t tell me you’re _nervous,”_ Niall insists as he passes a glass of champagne to Harry. “Drink up, it’ll make you feel better.”

Harry looks at himself in the mirror and then looks down at the glass. He feels a bit queasy. He’s pretty sure the champagne isn’t going to fix it.

“I’m about to get _married,”_ he says. “Of course I’m nervous.”

“You two are perfect for each other,” Niall assures him. “And you know it. Everyone knows it.”

Harry looks at his shoes, which have been polished so shiny that he can see his reflection. “What if he changes his mind?” he asks quietly. “What if he wakes up in three years and decides I’m not who he wants anymore?”

Niall grabs his hand. “Do you really think that’d happen? That of all the people in the world, Louis would do that to you?”

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe.”

Before Niall can say something Harry hopes will be slightly encouraging, there’s a knock at the door of the suite, and Liam pokes his head in.

“Got a present for the groom,” he says happily, handing a wrapped package to Harry. There’s a card on top, and just the sight of Louis’ chicken scratch scrawl of Harry’s name helps calm his heart a little bit.

He looks up at Liam. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s alright. Think he’s bricking it a bit though.”

Harry smiles a bit. “Yeah. Me too.”

“He’s excited though. Won’t stop fucking talking about how much he’s looking forward to the reception.”

This time, Harry grins fully. “Same. Gonna be the best part of this whole day.”

Niall shakes his head. “Nah. The best part is gonna be when we get the two of you down the goddamn aisle and get very drunk after.”

Liam high fives him. “Go on, open it. I gotta get back to him before he pukes up champagne and bagels.”

Harry wrinkles his nose. “Gross. Don’t let him have too much champagne, he’ll get really sweaty and nervous and it’ll be a whole mess.”

“I know. We’ve gotten drunk together a lot, remember?”

“Oh. Right. Well, still. I’m trusting you to keep him in line.”

Harry slides a fingernail under the seal of the envelope and pulls the card out. It’s got two mushrooms on it, and it says “TO A FUN GUY!”

Harry laughs. Louis is ridiculous.

Louis’ handwriting is neater than usual on the inside of the card, like he knew that Harry would expect to save this card for the rest of forever and he wanted to make himself look good. Can’t fault him for that.

_Haz,_

_There’s a million things I could say, but the main one is this: thank you. Thank you for loving me, for pushing me to strive for better every day, for helping me become the best version of myself. I wouldn’t be who I am without you.  I’m so lucky to have you in my life.  I promise to never, ever take that privilege for granted._

_I’m pretty sure this journal will say the rest._

_All my love,_

_Lou_

There’s a tear drop at the end of the signature, like Louis had been crying when he wrote it. Harry can’t blame him; his eyes are suspiciously blurry.

He tears at the wrapping paper and finds a black leather journal inside. He opens it to the first page, and there’s a date written in the top right corner. It’s the morning after their first date.

 _Went out with Harry last night,_ it reads. _I can’t believe it took me so long to finally ask him out. I feel like a bit of an idiot for waiting so long._

_Mum called this AM to ask how the date was and I felt like I was repeating myself over and over: he’s great, he’s really funny, he’s wonderful. It doesn’t feel like enough to encompass what he is. How he makes me feel._

_I can only hope he feels the same way._

Harry turns the page, a bit disbelieving, and there’s another entry from the night of their second date, three days later.

_I’m definitely an idiot. He says he’s liked me for ages._

_We held hands on the way home and I feel like a teenage girl, but there were definitely butterflies. Also we kissed. He’s a really good kisser._

_I’m trying not to text him immediately, but I really want to._

Harry can’t believe what he’s seeing. He flips through the pages as the tears fall. It’s a record of their relationship, the ups and downs, all of Louis’ feelings as he went through it.

 _H asked me to be official last night. Couldn’t stop myself from grinning all day, the kids at work think I’m a nutter. Maybe I am. I still can’t quite believe he_ likes _me. He’s my boyfriend now. Who would’ve ever thought?_

Harry can still remember how nervous he felt asking. It’s funny to look back now and think about how he’d been ridiculously concerned Louis would say no.

_Harry does this thing where he always tries my coffee before he gives it to me, even though he hates the way I take it. I called him out on it this morning but he denied it. I know what I saw._

Harry laughs; he _does_ do that, still to this day. He might hate coffee with sugar, but he needs to make sure that it’s perfect for Louis.

_I’m in love with Harry. Trying to figure out how to tell him._

That one was six weeks before Harry had blurted it out over the phone, half-drunk as he tried to fall asleep in his childhood bed in Cheshire, desperately missing his boyfriend.

The next one makes Harry roll his eyes and he _definitely_ has to talk to Louis about it later.

_Harry stayed in bed at my flat this morning while I went to a meeting. He called me nearly in tears about how he accidentally broke the good mug, that one we got when we traveled to Paris. I told him it’s okay, we can always get another mug. What I didn’t tell him is that I actually broke it earlier that morning._

That fucker. He’d let Harry sit with the guilt of that for _weeks,_ and it had only been slightly assuaged three months later when Gemma went to Paris and brought home a replacement.

He flips through the pages slowly. Some of the entries are long, pages and pages of description about things they’d done together. Some of them are just a few sentences, Louis’ feelings scrawled onto the page. All of them are dated.

_Moving in with H tomorrow. So fucking excited I probably won’t sleep tonight._

He cannot wait until he has the time to look through this properly (and cry accordingly), but he flips to the last page. He needs to know what’s at the end.

It’s today’s date, just two sentences.

_Harry and I are getting married today. Can’t believe how fucking lucky I am to be loved by someone I love so much._

He sobs so loudly that Gemma pokes her head in from the next room to see if he’s alright.

“And to think that I only got him tickets to a few West End musicals and some cufflinks,” Harry says with a laugh as he wipes his eyes. “God.”

“You still think he’s gonna change his mind?” Niall asks sagely.

Harry shakes his head. “No. No, I do not.”

Niall grins. “That’s what I thought.”

Harry wipes his eyes with a tissue again, careful not to get tears on his suit. It’s probably too late for that concern though. He’s probably going to be crying all day. He’ll probably be be red and blotchy in all the photos.

“Hey, Liam. Can you call Lou? I’ve got an idea.”

**_Two hours to go_ **

Keeping his eyes closed feels like an impossible task.

Somehow, though, he manages, all while Niall tells him that Louis is just around the corner and will be here any minute and that Harry won’t believe his eyes when he sees him.

And then after what feels like one hundred years, Niall pokes him in the shoulder and tells him he can open his eyes now.

It takes about three seconds for him to lose his sight again, this time because his eyes fill with tears.

Harry has seen Louis in lots of ways: dressed up for work, hanging out in a t-shirt and shorts, wearing nothing at all. But he’s never looked as breathtaking as he does right now. Maybe it’s the way his hair is pushed back from his forehead, or maybe it’s the fit of his beautifully-cut tuxedo. It might be the blinding smile on his face. It might be everything.

 _Louis_ is everything.

“Hey,” Louis says when he gets close enough, reaching out to grasp at Harry’s hands immediately. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Harry tries to laugh, but tears come out instead. Happy tears, he assures Louis, who smiles and wipes them away from Harry’s cheeks with his thumb tenderly. He’s so tender with Harry, always careful not to break him. Except for when Harry wants to be broken.

“I love you,” Harry says softly, and then he flings his arms around Louis and doesn’t let go for a long few minutes.

It’s not much of a traditional first look, not when Liam’s snapping pictures on his iPhone and Zayn is directing them like he’s shooting an action film, but it’s perfect. It’s time with Louis, who comforts him and makes him feel secure, and it’s making memories that the two of them will never, ever forget.

They only get a few minutes away together, because Harry does really need to go meet the photographer to take portraits with his parents.

“Thank you,” Louis whispers just before he has to go. Harry doesn’t quite know what he’s thanking him for — for orchestrating a last minute first look like he’d secretly wanted all along, for agreeing to marry him, for coming into his life. Harry is certainly thankful to him for all of those things and more.

“I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll be the one at the end of the aisle,” Louis quips, and Harry grins.

**_Five minutes to go_ **

“How are you feeling?” Gemma asks, coming to a stop in the middle of the hotel suite to give him a once over. “Need any Valium?”

Harry shakes his head. “Nope. I’m great.”

“You sure? You’re not freaking out?”

“No. This is right. I’m excited.”

Gemma starts crying once again and Harry has to hug her to get her to stop. He’s in absolutely no position to make fun of her as it is; five minutes before, his mum had come to tell him how proud she was of him, and that had set them both off on a fresh wave of tears.

“Just _wait_ until you hear the toast that I’m giving,” Gemma says, a glint in her eye, and Harry groans. The speech that Gemma gives will no doubt be lovely. It’s also bound to be very incriminating.

There’s a knock at the door before he can retort, and the wedding coordinator pokes her head in. “Harry, if you’re ready?”

He takes a deep breath and nods.

Everything seems to go in both slow motion and double speed all at once after that. Lining up with Gemma and Niall and the rest of his attendants, hearing the music start outside in the garden, waiting for his cue to go.

Walking toward Louis at the other end of the aisle is everything he dreamed of when they first started talking about the ceremony. Neither of them can stop smiling _or_ crying, and Harry giggles when Zayn hands Louis a tissue to wipe his eyes.

His steps don’t falter as he walks down the path. The garden is beautifully, exactly like they’d been planning for months, and it suddenly hits him that Louis and their mums were right. A big wedding, a real celebration, that’s what they deserve. It’s not necessary, but they’re only getting married this one time. It’s good that they’re doing it in style. Harry Styles, married in style.

The pun pops into his head just as he reaches the floral arch, and as Louis reaches for his hand, he’s giggling.

“What?” Louis asks, like they’re not in the middle of their wedding ceremony, and Harry just shakes his head.

“I’ll tell you later,” he whispers, and then he presses a kiss to Louis’ cheek.

He spends most of the ceremony distracted. Louis is making it a bit hard to pay attention, what with the smiling and looking stunning in his tuxedo and his general _Louis-ness_.

He’s fully attentive when the officiant asks if they’re ready for their vows, and he can’t help the tears — he’s shed so many tears today that he’s surprised he has any left — when Louis promises to cherish him for as long as they both shall live. He promises that he’ll always take out the rubbish, and kill the spiders, and give Harry backrubs when he needs them. He promises to love him and only him for as long as they both shall live.

When it’s Harry’s turn to speak, he doesn’t cry. His voice is steady as he tells Louis how calm he feels around him, how he’s known for years that they’d always end up here. He promises to cook him his favorite meals and let him watch his favorite television shows — “big mistake,” Louis interjects, much to the crowd’s amusement — and always let him know how important he is. He promises to love him and only him for as long as they both shall live.

It’s only minutes later they’re pronounced husbands, and Louis grabs Harry for a kiss so deep that he’s _almost_ embarrassed.

They’re married.

**_Happily ever after_ **

“We did it, Hazza. We really did it.”

Louis murmurs the words quietly into Harry’s ear while they sway slowly on the dance floor. Their coats are flung on a chair somewhere, leaving them in crisp white dress shirts, Harry’s unbuttoned halfway down his chest. The fairy lights overhead cast shadows on their faces, and Harry pulls Louis close to twirl them around. They make a beautiful pair, everyone keeps telling them. Based on what he’s seen of the first lookphotos on Liam’s camera roll, Harry’s inclined to agree.

The reception was beautiful, everything Louis had wanted, and because he was happy, Harry was happy. The toasts made him cry and hold tight to Louis, burying his face in his shoulder at one point to hide his tears. He can’t believe how lucky he is. Not only does he have the love of his life here in his arms, but he’s gotten to spend today with almost everyone he loves in the world.

He doesn’t take a minute of it for granted.

“I’m really excited,” Louis says quietly.

“For Greece?”

“Yeah. But also for after. When we come back and get settled.”

“D’you think we’ll become an old, boring married couple?”

Louis laughs. “Maybe. But we’ll do it together.”

Harry kisses him deeply and then, on a whim, dips him to the ground. Louis makes a little surprised noise and then kisses him again. Harry knows that there are people watching them, but he doesn’t care.

He’s in love.

It’s really only their family left now in the ballroom, and he knows they’re all waiting for them to finish. He knows they’d wait all night, if that’s what Harry and Louis wanted.

He pulls Louis back to a standing position and continues to dance with him. The music is a soft song he vaguely recognizes, and he smiles when he can feel rather than hear Louis humming it against his cheek. They sway for a few minutes more, as the song closes out and a new one starts, and then Harry speaks.

“You wanna get going?”

They’ve got a hotel room waiting for them, after all, and Harry’s looking forward to putting it to good use.

Louis nods. “Yeah, let’s get going.”

Harry kisses him one more time, and then Louis grabs his hand and leads him off the dancefloor.

They’re ready to start a new chapter of their lives together, and Harry couldn’t be more excited.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'd love if you left a comment and let me know what you thought :)
> 
> [Find me on tumblr](http://afirethatcannotdie.tumblr.com/) | [reblog the fic post](http://afirethatcannotdie.tumblr.com/post/164756408011/one-shines-brighter-by-afirethatcannotdie-hi)


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